As a child growing up in 1970s rural America, I watched Hee Haw religiously. (I also watched a lot of Space: 1999, the original Battlestar Galactica, and every Mae West movie I could find, but those reminiscences are for other posts). So, you could say I have had the good fortune to love Dolly Parton for nearly all of my life. Although I could go on and on about how much she rocks literally and figuratively, I will instead use the inaugural Early Influencer post to discuss how her fashion sense sashayed into my little kid brain and how I learned early on (though the lesson wouldn’t entirely stick) about the importance of comfort—and being practical—in what I wore.
Dolly 
has never shied away from fashion statements nor ever let a sequin be lonely. As a pre-kindergartener, I appreciated such a fashion outlook and was particularly taken with her extremely flowy bell bottoms and affinity for gingham. My life was complete when both came together for me in a way much like the pattern on the left from the era.
Made in blue-and-white gingham, the ruffled short top matched the skirt-like pants in both attitude and extraneous fabric—two key criteria necessary for full Dolly-hood. As I flounced around the house, the yard, the shed (we didn’t have a barn, but I wanted to be in a barn, courtesy of Hee Haw), I felt like I had everything a fashionable five-year-old could find. As the spring turned to summer, I had my uniform, my entrée outfit to the glamourous Hee Haw universe.
And then slowly and usually suddenly, that world and all of its glamour unraveled. It started with a bee sting. And then another. It seems the extra fabric necessary for full-on 1970s Dolly style pants had a dark side—a direct route to my rear end for bees easily scooped up as I ran pell-mell through the back yard clover. But I was a tough little kid who liked bugs and bees so that did not dissuade me.
I persisted and decided that if it were too dangerous to run around the yard in my outfit, then I would be much safer riding around on my bright blue bike. As with so many bad decisions that begin as a means to prolong a questionable initial choice, so too did this attempt to remain a kid and follow my heart’s fashion. Anyone who has ever ridden a bike knows where this is going, and luckily, the only injury sustained when the bike chain decided to eat my pants occurred to the pants. I had to wriggle out of them to free myself from the angry metal, but the chain’s teeth and grease had ruined my first true fashion statement forever.
However, all was not lost. I still fit into my previous fashion fave, a matching navy blue shorts combo that neither courted bee stings nor caused bicycle injury. And, it had the cool patterns on the neck, sleeve, and waistband that one could find on nearly all 1970s children and most 1990s indie rockers.
And so began the see-saw between sequin and stripe that continues for me to this day as well as my first inkling that clothes that don’t fit your purpose (are not comfortable, may kill you, will hurt you) have got to go. Whether they have been chewed by a thick greasy chain or not.